It has been a while since I have written. Call it writers block or what you may, but I think I have figured out the cure to my lack of words over the past month. I have realized that in moving half way around the world I must also change the perspective from which I view that world. Recently I have found it difficult to question and analyze what encompasses my comfort zone, my home. It is a lot easier to be inquisitive about things that are different; you notice things that are visible for the very first time. In the past, situations that provoked thought were long bus rides through exotic places, or witnessing a cultural difference that inspired a revelation. It is clear that being outside of our element forces us to think outside of the box… that in a foreign context curiosity seeps into the soul without any intention at all.
But being here in Boston, where I am comfortable and everything I see on a daily basis seems “normal” I am presented with an entire new challenge. Is there anything to analyze? Why don’t I get that bright eyed feeling on the #7 bus to downtown crossing like I did on the circular train to the Suffolk Madrid campus or on my walk to work in the Greek town of Fira? For the past few weeks I have been wondering if that enlightening feeling that I had so often while abroad will ever occur here in Boston; I miss it. It is that exciting and rewarding emotion that sparks my love of travel to begin with.
But the other day I was walking to catch the #7 bus home. And I passed a homeless man that I pass nearly every day near South Station. For some reason he always has big bulky head phones on; I would love to know what he listens to or if he listens to anything at all. He is with out fail, bundled up for a storm even if it is 75 and sunny. And for the third time I saw a business man in a full suit and tie and with briefcase in hand sit next to this vagabond and speak to him as if he were the CEO of a major company. It was fascinating to me, and seeing it triggered a million thoughts and questions and gave me that curious feeling for the first time in a long time.
As I ran my Charlie card over the sensor and sat down on the hard plastic seat of the bus to Southie, it occurred to me that my inquisitive nature had not disappeared. It is just directed in a different way and must come from a different place. Being in my own surroundings I will have to look deeper to find inspiration. I am forced to be more introspective in order to, this time around, understand my own culture rather than an alien one. Being more aware of my own world is just as important as understanding someone else’s. Boston may be my home but it leaves plenty to be curious about and I know that it has just begun to inspire countless ideas that will give me that eager feeling once again.
But being here in Boston, where I am comfortable and everything I see on a daily basis seems “normal” I am presented with an entire new challenge. Is there anything to analyze? Why don’t I get that bright eyed feeling on the #7 bus to downtown crossing like I did on the circular train to the Suffolk Madrid campus or on my walk to work in the Greek town of Fira? For the past few weeks I have been wondering if that enlightening feeling that I had so often while abroad will ever occur here in Boston; I miss it. It is that exciting and rewarding emotion that sparks my love of travel to begin with.
But the other day I was walking to catch the #7 bus home. And I passed a homeless man that I pass nearly every day near South Station. For some reason he always has big bulky head phones on; I would love to know what he listens to or if he listens to anything at all. He is with out fail, bundled up for a storm even if it is 75 and sunny. And for the third time I saw a business man in a full suit and tie and with briefcase in hand sit next to this vagabond and speak to him as if he were the CEO of a major company. It was fascinating to me, and seeing it triggered a million thoughts and questions and gave me that curious feeling for the first time in a long time.
As I ran my Charlie card over the sensor and sat down on the hard plastic seat of the bus to Southie, it occurred to me that my inquisitive nature had not disappeared. It is just directed in a different way and must come from a different place. Being in my own surroundings I will have to look deeper to find inspiration. I am forced to be more introspective in order to, this time around, understand my own culture rather than an alien one. Being more aware of my own world is just as important as understanding someone else’s. Boston may be my home but it leaves plenty to be curious about and I know that it has just begun to inspire countless ideas that will give me that eager feeling once again.
1 comment:
I just came across your blog randomly and can completely relate to this.
I studied in Athens, Greece and although it was only 6 months (a year and a half shy of your experience) this is one of the things I miss the most: myself.
And like another one of your posts, I also find myself questioning how long it would've taken me to move on from those feelings and onto something else, or whether or not that would've happened at all? Or that maybe I should just stop questioning that sort of thing altogether?
anyway, I'm at work now, came across this somehow, and just felt like saying that us pseudo-expatriates need to stick together.
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